By My Side
by Lady Wenham
Summary: When Boromir is ordered to Ithilien to support Faramir and the Rangers, the brothers must work together through their differences. COMPLETE
1. Ch 1 Disenchantment

**Summary**:  When Boromir is ordered to Ithilien to support Faramir and the Rangers, tension flies between the brothers.  An answer to the A'mael Taren's February Challenge, "Portray the relationship of Boromir and Faramir in a negative manner."  Don't worry – the brothers may have a nasty fight in this story, but of course they make up in the end! :)

Thanks, Clairon, for your helpful beta-reads on these chapters.  Everyone, go read her wonderful Faramir stories. :)

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_Chapter One – Disenchantment_

The late morning air was wonderfully crisp and cold, telling of autumn's early arrival to Minas Tirith.  The waters of the Anduin had yet to settle into the sudden change in temperature, and it steamed in the distance, covering the Pelennor with a fine mist.  I breathed deeply of the icy air and smiled for the first time in weeks.  Intent on enjoying the fine day—the first day I had away from my duties in Osgiliath for some time—I walked beside my horse quite leisurely through the lower levels of the City.  For more reasons than one, I was in no hurry to see my father.  I found I was more than content walking amongst my people, meeting their eyes one by one, reminding myself who I was constantly at war for.

My breath froze before my watering eyes as I gazed upwards towards the Citadel.  Immediately, my heart caught painfully in my throat when I saw the white flag waving proudly over the City.  Minas Tirith shone gloriously in the morning sun, a sight far removed from the ruins of Osgiliath, which I had been obliged to look at for far too long.  The river garrison was unthreatened for the moment, and as a result, I found myself in the City to give a routine report to my father.  The unpleasantness of that aside, I was overjoyed to leave Osgiliath for a short while.

It was a shame Faramir was not present to share the walk with me.  He would have enjoyed it, for we had taken many walks like it in the past.  I gazed with fondness at a few familiar doorways and with great sorrow at others.  A sudden longing for my brother's company seized me, and my stomach felt heavy with guilt.  My last parting with Faramir was filled with anything but brotherly love and kindness.  Moreover, there was no hope of reconciliation between us for the present, for he was in Ithilien with his company of Rangers.  Six months had passed since our last discussion, which was less than pleasant.  I shivered and pulled my cloak closer about me, wondering where he was and if all was well with him.

Before I could delve much further into unpleasant recollections, I was stirred from my thoughts when a painfully young guard rushed up to me and bowed.  "The Lord Denethor requests an immediate audience with you, Captain-general.  He says it is most urgent."

Nodding wordlessly to show my understanding, I pushed past the guard and grimly set towards the Citadel at a much quicker pace, agonizingly over whatever my father was to say.  His mood was anything but cordial these days, and I was not particularly looking forward to his company.  But he was my father, and despite his wretched mood, I loved him dearly.  I would go without complaint.

I found him in the great hall, seated in the Steward's Chair.  A single Ranger stood before him, his muddy clothes in a state unbefitting the company of the Steward.  It would seem the Ranger had been most desperate to report immediately to my father; for his sake, I hoped he had good reason.  Denethor's face was carefully set in a familiar expression of indifferent grimness.  He smiled dryly at me but to my surprise, did not move to embrace me as he habitually did.

I bowed to my father and turned to see who was also before him.  "Mablung!" I gasped in alarm when I recognized the scout's terribly bruised face.  "What brings you to the City?  Where is your Captain?"

Mablung looked expectantly at Denethor, who waved a hand and ordered, "You will tell him what you have told me."

It might have been my imagination, but the Ranger seemed to stand up straighter before his Captain-general than he did before his Steward.  I prayed for Mablung's sake that Denethor did not take notice of that fact.  It was obvious from the bruises and his paleness that Mablung was badly wounded, a fact that did not sit well with me.  I listened attentively to what he had to say.

"A unit of Southron warriors have been tracking the Rangers for nine days," he began breathlessly.  "We vanquished a similar unit not three weeks ago.  Captain Faramir believes this second unit was sent to ensure the Road would be safe for their usage in the future.  Our numbers were far too few to take them on directly, so we remained hidden.  Two days ago, they attacked during the night.  How they discovered our whereabouts, I cannot begin to imagine, for we were well hidden.  Their trackers are keen.  We managed to overcome the enemy and drive them away, but we suffered great losses.  Enemies who were not killed retreated; they will no doubt return.  I have been sent to call for aid."

"And your Captain?" I prompted impatiently.  "Where is Faramir?"

"Captain Faramir stayed behind in Ithilien.  There were many wounded, and he would not leave them."

I swore underneath my breath.  "And was he wounded himself?"

"He assured me he was not."  Mablung visibly hesitated, and his gaze fell momentarily to the ground.  "If I may speak freely, Lord Steward?"

Denethor tightened his lips.  "You may."

"I do not wish to imply that Captain Faramir is not an honest man," he said carefully, "but I believe the Captain might have been . . . underestimating the state his well-being."

"What do you mean?" I demanded.

"To my eyes, it seemed as if the Captain was suffering from some sort of blow to his side.  He held his hand to his waist as if he was in pain or attempting to slow bleeding," Mablung said, demonstrating with his right hand.  "I cannot say for certain, for he ordered me to the City at once."

Denethor scowled distastefully.  "You are dismissed, Mablung.  The Warden of the Houses of Healing will attend your wounds.  Remain in his care until you are sent for."

"Yes, my lord," Mablung said as he bowed respectfully and turned to leave.

Denethor waited until the heavy doors of the great hall closed before he turned grave eyes upon me.  "What do you suggest?"

"Immediate aid sent to those remaining in Ithilien, of course," I said without hesitation, leaning forward eagerly.  "They could be killed or captured if the enemy returns with reinforcements.  There is no urgent threat to our garrison at Osgiliath.  We can spare the men for a short while."

Denethor nodded solemnly.  "Make it so.  I suppose you desire to go yourself?"

I tensed, sensing his disapproval.  "I do."

The Steward's lips thinned, and he sat back thoughtfully in his tall chair.  "You have only just arrived in the City, Boromir.  I have barely had the opportunity to look upon you, and now you wish to leave."

It did not seem wise to respond, so I bowed my head and allowed him to debate the matter in silence.  His face suddenly seemed painfully old as he contemplated, as if weighed down by some heavy burden.  At length, the old man turned his grave gaze upon me.  "You may go.  See that someone competent is left in charge at Osgiliath, and see that your men are mounted for the ride to Ithilien for haste will be needed.  Take whatever healers can be spared; take Mablung as well, if his wounds are not serious.  He will be valuable as a guide, for he knows where the enemy is."

I did not attempt to conceal my sigh of relief.  "Of course, my lord.  With your leave, I will go at once."

He nodded wordlessly.  Again, I expected him to rise and embrace me, but he did not.  Denethor merely watched with mixed emotions as I bowed low.  Before I could turn to depart, he said, "Boromir?"  He waited until he had my full attention before he spoke again with grave severity.  "You will bring my son back to me."

His words were quietly spoken, but they seemed to echo through the great hall as if they had been shouted.  Never in my life had I received an order with such asceticism.

I swallowed with difficulty, my eyes fortifying with determination.  "Yes, father."

*******

_To be continued._

Please review! :)

**Author's Note**: A few arguments have been voiced to me concerning Mablung's intentions regarding his disclosure of Faramir's injury.  My intent was to show that Faramir's concern fell to his men rather than to himself.  Mablung was acting out of love and not out of the desire to undermine his Captain.  You can find all my reasons for this and the opposing side of the argument in my Live Journal entry for this chapter.

http://www.livejournal.com/users/ladywenham/


	2. Ch 2 Disappointment

**Author's Notes**:  In this chapter, I have fabricated quite a bit of how the Ithilien Rangers are perceived in Gondor and by Boromir.  Nowhere in the book can I find anything to support or refute this (though the book is so long and detailed, I might have missed something).  Take what I have assumed concerning the Ithilien Rangers with a grain of salt. It is one interpretation among many that happened to work for my story.

A special thanks to everyone who helped me with feedback and comments on my Live Journal.  You'll be happy to know that the story is remarkably guerrilla free now.  :D

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_Chapter Two – Disappointment_

The ride to Henneth Annûn lasted far longer than I would have liked, under the circumstances.  The newly mended Mablung rode at my side; he wore a pained look of anguish as his wounds were cruelly jarred by the ride.  He uttered no complaint, seemingly as determined as I was to reach our destination with haste.  Behind us rode a mounted company, kicking up a great cloud of dust in their wake.  Any hope in secrecy was waylaid by the pounding of our horses.  The enemy would know we were coming long before we were in sight.  I cared not.  A small part of me hoped they would take it as a warning and retreat at once; but mostly, I hoped to engage and annihilate those who had dared to attack my brother and his men.  Determined, I urged my horse to take a quicker pace.

I must admit that part of my haste was inspired by a desire to push undesirable thoughts away from my mind.  The guilt I had felt towards the rift between Faramir and I had quickly vanished when I learned of my brother's peril.  I found that my resulting thoughts were only that of anger.  Anger towards Faramir.  The old argument rang anew in my troubled mind: _Faramir did not belong in Ithilien_.  He deserved better than to be stationed as a mere Ranger.  He belonged at my side, in Gondor's army, but he would not see reason, nor would our father.  The unpleasant memory revisited me as I rode.

I had pleaded with my father on that dreadful day when Faramir's captaincy over the Rangers had been announced; it was the last day I had seen Faramir before he left for Ithilien, six months ago.

"You cannot really mean to allow this?" I had asked my father accusingly.

"You question my decision?" Denethor responded.  The eyebrow he raised in my direction was not a gracious one.

"He does not have the skill," I argued through clenched teeth.  "Not yet anyway."

"Faramir's skill with the bow has surpassed even your own, Boromir.  That will prove useful to him in Ithilien."

"I realize that and do not resent him for it.  But it is his ability to lead so far from authority that I question."

Denethor considered my words.  "Indeed, it is something to be concerned with.  Faramir has shown more than once that he possesses a free spirit, but he cannot prove himself unless I give him opportunity to be loyal to me."

I bit my tongue, attempting to control my frustration.  "Your decision is final, then?"

"It is."

I was angry with my father for some time after we spoke, fearing news Faramir's death would reach my ears within the week.  Storming from the great hall, I went immediately to find Faramir.  At first opportunity, I grasped my indignant brother by the tunic and hauled him to privacy so that I could thoroughly yell at him.

"_The Ithilien Rangers?_" I bit out.  "Are you insane?"

Faramir's eyes grew wide and round in a most irritating manner.  I did not like it when I was reminded of the child he once was, for it caused my anger to wane.  I held onto that anger with everything I had, reminding myself that it was born out of the desire to see him safe.  "Why are you saying this?" Faramir asked quietly, ever playing the innocent victim in times of accusation.

"You belong in Gondor's main army, Faramir, not some remote unit," I explained, beginning to pace angrily about the room.  "It is dangerous in Ithilien.  There is a good reason why it has been abandoned.  Moreover, you will never receive honor or recognition as a Ranger.  Of what consequence is such a position to you?"

"I do not seek recognition.  Can you not be happy for me, brother?" Faramir asked in disbelief.

I spun around furiously, eyes brimming with tears.  "_Happy_ for you?  No, Faramir, I cannot.  You are acting like a fool.  I will not support a decision that would cause your downfall."

"You do not know that," he responded, shaking his head slowly.

"I know it in my heart," I said, pressing a gloved hand to my chest for emphasis.

"And I know in mine that it is what I am supposed to do."

"You are young.  You do not know your heart."

"I am twenty-eight years old," he argued indignantly.  "And you are only just thirty-three."

"You can learn a lot in five years.  I do not wish to see you dead, Faramir.  I fight you on this because I love you."

"You are being overly protective."

"I am your _Captain-general_."

Faramir's eyes steeled.  "And my father is the _Steward_.  I will do as he commands, even over my Captain-general.  I value your opinion, Boromir, but I am going to Ithilien nevertheless."

"When I am Steward," I bit out, "that will be the first thing to change."

With that, I stormed away and did not see my brother off on his new mission.  I was furious, too caught up in my anger to think of anything but the injustice of it all.  I felt most guilty when I learned Faramir was gone.  He left me a note, wishing me well, saying he had no hard feelings.  So wretched and guilty did I feel for my actions, I never wrote back to him.

As I raced towards Ithilien to my brother's aid not six months after our argument, I could not help but feel a little satisfied.  My forebodings had proven correct.  A very small part of me almost wanted Faramir to be wounded so I could make my father see reason—so that Faramir could come home once again.  But such thoughts were foolishness—if Faramir was indeed injured, there would be no feelings of satisfaction on my part.  Only grief.  He was my baby brother, and I loved him more than anything.  That, however, would not stop me from yelling at him when I saw him.  Nothing but death would keep that from him.  I felt it my brotherly duty.

We reached the Gorge Pathway at sunset.  I dismounted and ordered the men to do the same.  After sending out a few scouts, I took Mablung and the healers with me deeper into the thick woods.  Henneth Annûn was well hidden and a distinct pain to find.  Wounded or not, I was thankful for Mablung's assistance.  We climbed up a steep ravine, watching our breath freeze in the frigid night air.  A light misting of rain began to fall, making the steep path dangerous.

When we arrived at the top, I heard a slight rustling before me.  Beside me Mablung gave a long, low whistle that cut through the trees.  More movement ahead of me, and suddenly two cloaked Rangers emerged from the copse.

"Captain-general!" they cried when they recognized me.

Ignoring the questions that soon followed, I pushed past them towards the caves that contained the stairs that led down into Henneth Annûn.  The roaring of a waterfall could be heard, and the air was thick with frigid moisture.  I shivered, despite my warm cloak, and pressed on.  When I reached the caves, I saw that many men were laid out upon the ground.  All around me was blood and pain, and though it was a sight I was not unused to, I choked back a cry of revulsion.  The healers set down their supplies and got to work on the many bodies lying here and there.

"Why have these men not been brought below to safety?" I asked, my eyes nervously scanning the bodies for Faramir's familiar profile.

"The stairs, sir," a Ranger provided.  "Many of them are too wounded to be moved further.  Some are still at the site of the attack."

I cursed long and slow under my breath.  "That must be remedied soon, if we are to keep this base hidden.  Where is your Captain?"

Pointed in the direction of the woods, I found him on his feet, of course, tending to a gravely wounded man who was obviously unable to be moved further.  Several others lay here and there.  When Faramir caught sight of me, he heaved a great sigh of relief and bowed low before me.  He was cloakless and dirty, shivering uncontrollably in the light, freezing rain.  I glanced down at the wounded man to see that he was covered in Faramir's cloak.  I called loudly for one of the healers to tend to the man.

"You are come," my brother said breathlessly.  "I did not expect to see you personally, Captain-general."

"Why do you speak in this manner?" I answered, slightly offended when he did not move to embrace me as we always did.  Perhaps my sensitivity was founded more on the fact that we had not left on good terms the last time we were together.  "Are we not brothers?"

"You are still my superior, sir," he said, and I instantly recalled our last conversation, when I flaunted my position in his face.

I grit my teeth.  "Then as your superior, I order you to drop the pretense and speak to me as you used to."

"It is not pretense, I assure you.  Only respect."  The fight left my brother quickly, and his shoulders drooped.  "I am glad to see you, Boromir.  I just thought—well, never mind.  Thank you for coming.  We have many wounded and cannot take another attack.  We will be decimated if the enemy discovers our location."

"There are mounted troops guarding the road and the gorge.  Do not worry.  Father has seen to it that we are well-protected."

He heaved a great sigh of relief and promptly winced in pain.  It was then that I noticed how he clutched his side.  My torchlight was dim, however, and I could not see the cause.  "You are wounded?"

"Not badly."

"Yes, I am quite sure you speak the truth," I bit out, signaling one of the healers over to us.  "Forgive my doubt in you, but I recall how much honor you pay to your own well-being."

"With all due respect, Boromir, there are many who are in grave need of the healers.  My wounds are not serious.  I can wait until the others have been seen to."

That was the breaking point.  My anger quickly reached its peak, something the men should not have to witness.  My brother, however, was going to witness it if he liked it or not.  Grabbing a few medical supplies, I seized Faramir roughly by the tunic and hauled him deeper into the woods.

"Where are you taking me?" he argued.  "The men…"

"…will be fine," I said, effectively cutting him off.  "And I am taking you somewhere private where I can yell at you to my heart's content.  Do you wish me to embarrass you in front of your men?"

He did not respond.  When I saw him grimacing painfully, I relinquished my hold on him and allowed him to walk unaided.  When we were out of sight, I roughly unfastened his tunic and threw it aside.  Faramir glared at me hotly when I started on his bloodied shirt, tearing it away in my anger.  "You dishonor me, brother," he said quietly, his eyes full of silent fury.

"Faramir, I love you more than my life," I said, "but sometimes you infuriate me beyond all reckoning."

"Likewise," Faramir said, bristling.  "But if I have ever felt anger towards your actions, I have never let it cloud my judgment of you or mistreated you."

Ignoring his pointed words, I cursed loudly when I caught the sight of his wound in the moonlight.  He was right in that it was not the most serious of wounds, for it seemed as though his thick leather tunic had saved him from the worst of whatever blow had caused it.  However, the wound was completely untreated and unbandaged, still leaking blood slowly.  "Have you no sense at all, leaving a wound like this untreated for so long?  I should finish the job and kill you myself, little brother," I rasped angrily, unaware that I had managed to utter a threat and an endearment in a single breath.  "I should shake you and curse you and beat you."

"Yes, well, would you please get on with it?" he deadpanned.  "I have men to care for."

"You will do what I say.  I am the ranking officer here," I bit out, pushing him down upon a fallen tree with what little gentleness I could muster.  Kneeling before him, I began to dress his wound.  "You should have never come to Ithilien.  If you were under my watch, this would have never happened."

"Meaning you think me incapable of performing my duties properly.  I grow distinctly weary of this argument."  He winced away from me violently when I applied a thick layer of ointment to the gaping wound in his side.  I gripped his shoulder, silently comforting him despite my anger.

"I do not think you incapable as a warrior, Faramir, but you have too much heart to be a leader in times such as these**.  Why did you not send word earlier?"

"I did.  When help did not come, I assumed the men I sent had been captured."

I stopped short before responding, hearing a noise in the distance.  Faramir heard it as well, for he leapt to his feet and gave a low long whistle.  When no response came, he looked at me in alarm.

I glanced back at him, noticing his conspicuously bare waist.  "Where is your sword, _Captain_?"

"You drew me away on a whim.  I did not have the chance to grab it."  After a moment, he added, "_Sir_."

"Perfect," I muttered, ripping a bandage in half.  Not feeling as though we had the opportunity to waste anymore time, I pressed it to his side.  "Get up.  We're going back."

"At last you see reason."

"Do not start—"

And that was as far as I got before an arrow came whistling through the trees.  It would have hit me square in the chest had Faramir not pushed me to the ground.  I was on my feet instantly and drew my sword.  Together we raced back towards the encampment, and I cursed myself for my foolishness as another arrow sailed past my right ear.

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To be continued.

**Author's Notes:**

**"_I do not think you incapable as a warrior, Faramir, but you have too much heart to be a leader in times such as these."  _My reasons for this statement of Boromir's stem from Faramir's possession of a free spirit and a propensity to follow his heart in times of decision.  I value this in Faramir's character—an example would be when he allowed Frodo and the Ring to go free.  It is a noble quality.  However, I think in a military sense Faramir's free spirit would not be kindly looked upon by his father and superiors.  Keep in mind that this story is told from Boromir's point-of-view, and many of these little nuances that stand in Faramir's defense are not directly disclosed.  Boromir will have to discover them for himself.  ^_~

Writing these two arguing was more fun than I'd like to admit.  :D  Keep in mind that I'm not trying to make them enemies or anything.  I'm just trying to portray what a brotherly argument between these two might be like.

Please feed me and review!  Updates can be found on my livejournal.


	3. Ch 3 Discovery

Author's Notes: Woo wee, this is a stinker! I haven't written anything this bad since ... well ... yesterday. (Great way to introduce a new chapter, isn't it?) I decided after much deliberation to end this story with this chapter. I hope it doesn't end to abruptly for everyone.  
  
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Chapter Three – Discovery  
  
Faramir and I did not get far. After the first volley of arrows, the attacks suddenly ceased. I believe they saw that aside from my sword, we were unarmed, making us prime targets for capture. Emerging from the dark coppice, a crowd of twenty Southrons surrounded us, aiming arrows and spears in our direction. I dropped my sword and raised my hands in submission, seeing that most trained their arrows on Faramir, eyes glinting pointedly in my direction.  
  
One man stepped in front of the others. His uniform was slightly different, signifying rank of some sort. A Captain, perhaps. His black eyes moved inquisitively from myself to Faramir, and I prayed he would not notice the family resemblance and use it against us. Fixing his eyes upon my brother, the man spoke with a heavy accent in the Common Tongue. "You are the Captain of this rabble. We have met before."  
  
The men surrounding us laughed, many leering at Faramir's wound. Instantly I understood. The Captain of the Southrons was the one who had wounded Faramir. Realizing this, I immediately felt two things: immense anger that anyone dared touch my little brother; and gratefulness that I had identified the man so that I could rip him to shreds with my bare hands.  
  
"You killed my men," the man continued, jabbing a finger in Faramir's calm face. "I will see that yours die as well. Every last one. You have no claim to this land anymore." The man suddenly struck my brother brutally across the face with the handle of his sword.  
  
Blinded by rage, I roared and leapt to my feet. Arrows trained on me immediately, and the Southron Captain's eyes glittered with interest in my direction. "You are quite protective of this man, I see. And by your uniform, I see you are an officer of Gondor's army," he said to me as he placed his sword against Faramir's throat. "We have seen your mounted troops guarding the road. You will either tell me what plans have been made for Ithilien, or you will watch this man die."  
  
Tears stung my eyes as I stared helplessly at my brother. Faramir's gaze was calm and composed; he shook his head ever so slightly in my direction. I clenched my teeth in frustration, for I knew that a single misplaced word from my mouth could bring about his death. But at the same time, I knew what the right thing to do was—even though it was probably the hardest choice I had ever made. "I will tell you nothing," I answered, "regardless of what you do to either of us."  
  
The men surrounding us laughed. "You would sacrifice this man's life?" the Southron Captain inquired. "You would allow him to die for a few simple details? I am shocked."  
  
"I would," I said, nodding towards my brother. "That man would willingly die for Gondor."  
  
Faramir's eyes glinted at me approvingly, but the Southron Captain did not seem as pleased. He leaned dangerously close to my brother and ran the sword lightly across his throat. A small line of blood ran down Faramir's neck onto his chest. "Did you hear that, young Captain? This man has just pronounced your death sentence. How do you feel about that?"  
  
Faramir's voice was admirably calm. "He chose well."  
  
"Captain," another man said as he gestured in Faramir's direction. "I recognize this man."  
  
I winced when the sword was suddenly pulled away from Faramir's throat. The Southron Captain drew away from us momentarily to converse with the other man in foreign words I could not understand. My brother met my gaze and glanced meaningfully into the woods behind us. What he meant by that, I did not discover until later.  
  
When the Southron Captain returned, he immediately placed the cool edge of his sword at my throat. Faramir tensed and swallowed with difficulty. "Is it true, young Captain, that you are the heir to the Stewardship of Gondor?" the Southron Captain asked.  
  
Both my brother and I were somewhat surprised that the question was directed towards Faramir and not me. My brother winced, watching the blade scrape threateningly down my throat. "You wish the heir dead?" he asked.  
  
"Most assuredly."  
  
Faramir's eyes steeled with resolve. "Then I am he."  
  
My jaw dropped in denial, but before I could protest, the whistling of arrows cut through the night air. The men around us fell dead; regrettably the Southron Captain was one of them. Rangers and soldiers poured out of the woods with a noisy cry. Since we were both unarmed, I grasped Faramir and pulled us both to the ground.  
  
The battle was over in minutes, for I had brought adequate troops to dispel the enemy. All the while, I clutched Faramir protectively to my side, taking in heaving gulps of air, realizing how close we both had come to death. I suppose that technically Faramir had not lied to protect me, for he was indeed in line to inherit the Stewardship, but I was furious nonetheless. Still, I could not blame him for his actions; deep down, I knew I would have done the same in a heartbeat. I hugged him closer and smiled ruefully when I felt him respond in kind.  
  
"I'm going to murder you," I muttered into his hair.  
  
He chuckled weakly in response. "Can I at least have something strong to drink before I die? I'm freezing."  
  
Suddenly remembering that Faramir was shirtless in the cold and drizzling weather, I pulled him into a sitting position and wrapped my heavy cloak around his quaking shoulders. The sounds from the woods told me what was left of the enemy was retreating. Six guards surrounded our prone forms protectively. With numb fingers, I quickly (and quite poorly) finished wrapping Faramir's wounds. I felt tears sting my eyes as I watched him press a bandage to his bleeding neck, realizing I was the one who had brought him out into the woods without protection. Together we rose and surrounded by guards, headed slowly back to the safety of the caves.  
  
"Well, that was certainly enjoyable," Faramir said when we arrived in his makeshift quarters. "Let's not do it again."  
  
"You saved my life back there, little brother," I said, dismissing the guards with a wave of my hand. "More than once, and I thank you for it. You did well."  
  
I watched with curiosity as Faramir absorbed the compliment. He seemed to be caught in an odd place between surprise, pleasure, and refusal of the praise. "You're welcome," he responded slowly after a moment.  
  
"I'm still going to murder you, of course."  
  
"You keep saying that, and yet you fail to follow through with your threat," he answered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I lose faith in you by the minute, Boromir."  
  
"I shall try not to disappoint you, then," I said, laughing. "But duty calls, first and foremost, so your demise will have to wait. I am to bring you back to the City tomorrow. Father will be expecting us."  
  
"Ah, yes," he said without enthusiasm. "To receive my reprimand, I suppose."  
  
I shook my head. "No, Faramir. Father was rather anxious for you. My orders were to bring his son home. Personally, I'm terrified of the consequences should I fail him."  
  
Faramir chuckled. "We shall see, Boromir. Father and I do not always understand one another."  
  
"He loves you, you ingrate," I argued goodheartedly. "You know that."  
  
"I do not doubt that he has love for me," he answered quietly. "Just as I do not doubt that he also disapproves of me."  
  
"You have chosen a certain path in life. We all must."  
  
"Yes, and the path I have chosen is most grievous to him, it seems."  
  
"And to me."  
  
Faramir shook his head. "You speak of my appointment to the Rangers. Father and I have deeper points of conflict."  
  
"And mine are less important than his? This place is a death trap. Surely you can see that after the events of this week—after what happened tonight. The foliage provides cover, not only for the Rangers, but for your enemies as well."  
  
"And what would you have me do? Allow foreigners to march unchecked across our land?"  
  
"We lost this land long ago."  
  
"No, we fled from it," Faramir declared, "and I will not flee. You know I do not like warfare, but if I must I will fight for Gondor, even if it means my death. You, of all people, should understand that. You should not protest my chance to protect the land I love."  
  
I blinked in surprise at his words, for I had not realized he felt so strongly about his duty in Ithilien. This alone was enough to silence any further arguments I might have had. Seeing how unwavering his resolve was, I had to admit to myself that my "little brother" had become quite the Captain, something I had never pinned him for. How mistaken I had been. Deeply ingrained in my heart was a desire to protect Faramir, who I could not help but perceive as so very young; but seeing the man before me, so strong and wise beyond his years, I could not deny him this opportunity—not after all he had just said. He would have my support from that moment on.  
  
"All right, brother. All right," I consented quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Noticing Faramir swayed in my grasp, I frowned deeply in concern. "Let us argue no more. You are not well."  
  
I called loudly over my shoulder for a healer to come attempt to repair the mess I had made of Faramir's bandages. When help came, Faramir barely flinched as the wound in his side was treated, and I wondered when he had become so hardened to pain. I recalled that as a child, Faramir would have wailed his anguish to the world. If he had done so now, I would not have thought the worst of him. Having seen the wound in better light, it was evident to me now that a spear of some sort had inflicted it. The wound was small but quite deep, and the skin around it was red and inflamed with the beginnings of an infection.  
  
"It was not poisoned, was it?" I asked the healer, my eyes glued to my brother's side.  
  
"No, Lord Boromir," was the response. "If Captain Faramir had been subjected to the Southron poison, you would know it. He would likely already be dead or very ill indeed."  
  
My eyes lifted slowly to Faramir's weary face. He did not look back at me, but it was obvious from his expression, he knew that I watched him. Biting my tongue, I set about finding some suitable clothes for Faramir, since his own were coated in a thick layer of mud and stained with blood.  
  
Clean clothes were hard to come by since many had been torn up for use as bandages. Locating my horse, I pulled my pack down and removed a set of my own clothes. Knowing they were too big for him, I smiled and imagined how he would swim in them. When I returned, I found the healer had finished dressing Faramir's wounds. With extraordinary predictability, my brother had begun seeing to others. Without a word, I grasped him by the shoulder and led him to the pile of blankets he used as a bed. Surprisingly without much protest, he dropped wearily to the ground.  
  
"The healers will see to your men," I assured him, seeing how troubled his eyes were. "There is nothing you can do now."  
  
"I can help."  
  
"No, you cannot. You are ready to drop. I assume you have not taken rest since the attack?"  
  
He sighed and leaned back onto the blankets. "I admit I took none even before that. We had to keep moving when we discovered we were being tracked. We purposefully kept clear of Henneth Annûn so that it would not be discovered."  
  
"The men have not rested either, then?"  
  
"Most of them, no. I should--"  
  
"Stop fretting, little brother," I said, gently cutting him off. "They will find rest now. We are well-protected."  
  
Faramir nodded slowly. I helped him into the shirt I had brought him, and his eyes were wide and pained with each movement he made. "Do you think you will be able to sleep?" I asked.  
  
"I have been awake for so long, I honestly do not know."  
  
"You do seem nervous," I agreed. "Try to relax. I am here to watch over you."  
  
He suddenly glanced at me with a grave but tender expression. "Thank you, Boromir."  
  
I realized as he spoke the words, he was thanking me for more than one thing. He was thanking me for coming; for loving him enough to give him my opinion but respecting his at the same time; for being there for him and for his men. For a million other unspoken things. I looked down upon him laying there, his face ashen, his eyes closed, and I suddenly felt furious with myself for allowing Faramir to leave Minas Tirith all those months ago, thinking I was angry with him. Thinking himself unthanked, unloved, and unappreciated.  
  
"Little brother?" I asked quietly. He made a low sound in the back of his throat as a response, telling me that he was already asleep. I spoke the words nevertheless. "I'm proud of you."  
  
It did not matter that he was already asleep and did not hear me. I realized in my heart that Faramir already knew, even before I did.  
  
*******  
  
The end.  
  
Please review! :) faramirandeowyn@hotmail.com 


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